


The Bookworm

by Inkribbon796



Series: Masks and Maladies [60]
Category: Jacksepticeye Fandom, Markiplier fandom - Fandom, Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Espionage, Gen, Undercover Work, background Host/Iplier, double agent, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkribbon796/pseuds/Inkribbon796
Summary: Dark’s network is a den of people who range from wanton murder (Google and Wil) to people who are willing to make a buck off someone less fortunate than them. However there’s a new addition to that network: a cold eye that never seems to get involved but seems like he could at a moment’s notice. He is, however, not what he seems.
Series: Masks and Maladies [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538131
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	The Bookworm

**Author's Note:**

> If Logan seems a bit out of character, blame the undercover work and the hypnotism. Mob Logan was fun to write.

If there was ever a picture of stoicism and professionalism it was Dark’s newest  _ “accountant” _ . Dark hadn’t had an official personal assistant for sometime. His last had disappeared and much like other disappearances in the network, no one question what had gotten the kid the boot.

There were whispers about the kid, but no one dared to talk about him in public, especially when Dark’s new assistant could hear.

Logan Sanders was sure they were more afraid of him than anything else, his lack of an emotional response to the things around him probably helped with that.

To date Logan had seen two men be shot in front of him, and three just disappear, and each time it was like a part of his brain had compartmentalized it somewhere else. But he’d never killed anyone himself.

However word spread about Dark’s new  _ “Bookworm” _ as he was called. Everyone knew who Logan was even if they didn’t know his name. Some whispers were made in awe, others in disgust and fear.

Since Logan worked so closely with Dark he’d had to be up close and personal with death. As such, Logan always had his hands encased in black gloves, and rags he could bag and then burn as he needed to. Along with a second pair of glasses he kept on his person at all times in case he had to suddenly change.

Today was another fully scheduled day for Dark, and one of those was a death that had gotten a little bit messy.

Logan stepped out of the room he and Dark had been in, heading towards his own office, wiping the blood off his glasses, staring down at it with a mix of boredom and contempt. He was going to need to deep clean it when he got back to his office.

“Damn Bookworm, where’d Dark dig you up from?” One of the enforcers whispered.

“I was not dug up,” Logan answered. “I would have suffocated underground.”

“It’s just a phrase,” the enforcer mumbled. “Are you even human?”

“My lack of empathy for individuals who have signed up to work with Dark has no bearing on my humanity, or perception thereof.”

“Hell, man, even the cowboy’s not that callous,” he reminded. “Did your parents not love you enough?”

“You will refrain from making tactless comments aimed to harm and insult my person,” Logan reminded, not putting the glasses back on his face since he could feel it wasn’t clean yet. “You have made your choices in life as have I. Once you decide to work for Dark, you cease to be a normal person. Violence and bloodshed become the new standard of reality.”

The enforcer chuckled to himself, “Psychopath, well have fun, if you’re even capable of that.”

Smiling, the enforcer just shook his head, “Nevermind, I don’t wanna to know what you do for fun.”

Then he walked away, making sure not to brush against or even run the risk of touching Logan. It was an action that Logan appreciated. There was a benefit to the type of respect he’d earned from the rest of Dark’s network.

Logan only raised an eyebrow, and then continued to his office. It wasn’t as big as Dark’s office, but was more than enough for Logan to have a couch to rest or kick up his feet. There was even a footstool that doubled as a mini bookcase. It had been empty when Logan had first been given the office.

The only other feature of the room was the door on one side that was connected to Dark’s office, so that Dark could walk in at a moment’s notice and check up on him or ask for information he needed. But apparently Dark had been out all day checking his various assets all over the city, Logan had been told not to expect him and to keep an eye on people.

All day Logan’s brain fixated on the fact that Dark wasn’t at his office, that he was gone for probably the rest of the day, that it meant something. Which frustrated Logan to no end. Dark was his own person, and if anything it ensured Logan would get more work done because Wilford had no reason to show up today and no one got anything done when Wilford was present.

But . . . he was meant to do something in Dark’s absence.

Trying to get back to work, Logan was able to work through a couple more files before it happened, the faint whisper of someone over his shoulder, as if his brain was being snapped awake from a hazy dream.

Taking a sharp breath Logan looked around in an unfamiliar daze, confused and realizing he had on a pair of glasses he tended to wear as a backup. He had no idea where he was, until he saw a note in front of him. The tidy cursive calligraphy in the Host’s fancy scrawl:

_ Tick Tock, little worm, before the cat comes back to play. _

_ Tick Tock, little mole, before you sleep again. _

_ Logic has one hour to obtain his stolen goods before Logan returns. _

_ Hide them from your future self, and destroy this note beyond comprehension. _

Alarmed and confused, Logan read through it a second time before he decided time was of the essence and stood up. Then, in desperation Logan literally ate the note, not trusting himself to hide it without notice.

Looking around Logan tried to take notes, normally he had very little memory of what he did whenever he was undercover in Dark’s network. It made it so he didn’t act out of character with how an enforcer was supposed to act, or recognize them and blow his cover onto early when he was doing his actual superhero work.

Logan was looking for specific files to bring back to the rest of the heroes. Memories of his time as Dark’s  _ “Bookworm” _ seemed like a hazy dream, like he’d been having a horrible nightmare that was already clearing itself from Logan’s system. He had to get to the record’s room, and do it without looking like a mole or a shapeshifter.

Straightening up his desk, Logan picked up one of the legal pads with a string of numbers on it, all of them written in the logical Side’s handwriting. They made some sense to Logan. It seemed. To be a number of tax accounts with serial numbers on them.

He had to pretend to look for errant tax documents, which should be an easy enough lie. Unlike Patton, Logan could lie about a number of things without being too obvious. Deceit wasn’t the only Side with a healthy understanding of falsehoods and half-truths.

The only issue was that Logan wasn’t sure when his hour had officially begun, was it when he’s  _ “woken” _ up or was it when he had left his office?

Not wanting to waste more time, Logan left the office, stepping into the hallway and trying to have an air of confidence.

There were two enforcers in the hallway, giving him uneasy looks. Judging by the blood Logan had found on his glasses, the looks had a probability of being justified. He ignored them, and a side-glance told him they had relaxed a little.

“Hey Worm Boy!” A rather inebriated shout echoed down through the hallway. The two other enforcers in the hallway fell into a hushed silence. Logan made sure to glare down the hallway at the perpetrator, trying to seem like an enforcer and desperately hoping he was accurate in his impersonation.

“Interesting, I didn’t know that Dark permissively allowed his employees to intoxicate themselves.” Logan slowly turned, trying to figure out how to get himself out of this without a fight.

“You and yer fuckin’ million dollar words,” the drunk enforcer cursed. “Bet if I had a six-figure salary I could talk as high and might as you too.”

The accusation made Logan wonder if there was any validity to the statement. If there was, Logan’s next question was where all that money was going, especially if Dark didn’t suspect him yet.

One of the enforcers in the hall immediately stood in-between Logan and the drunkard. “Come on man, back off before you get us all shot.”

“Bet he can’t even shoot a gun,” the enforcer accused. “He’s a paper pusher.”

“I am responsible for keeping all the books and tax information and have power over your paycheck,” Logan announced. It was probably a stretch, Logan didn’t think he was the main accountant, but all the tax information on his desk pointed to his involvement in the process.

By the faces of the more sober enforcers showed that they believed him.

“I’ll get him out of here,” the enforcer, trying to hold his drunk co-worker back, promised Logan. “He won’t bother you again.”

“Unlikely,” Logan warned before he could stop himself, he could feel himself wasting time with them. “See to it that he is removed from the premises, if I see him again he might not fare so well.”

“Big talker aren’t you?” The drunk spat.

“No, fortunately for you I am too busy to care about you or your inane drunken ramblings,” Logan dismissed and already began to turn, trying to act calm and dismissive.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The enforcer growled.

Logan ignored him, only turning to check and had to instantly duck his head to avoid being punched in the face. He used his opponent’s sluggish response time to flip him onto his back and pin him down by the neck.

“You are continuing to make rather unfortunate choices,” Logan warned. “I am busy, I cannot afford to waste my precious time on your childish antics.”

“Holy shit,” one of the enforcers cursed.

“Get him out of here!” Logan ordered them, glaring at them. Momentarily Logan worried that he might not have the status in Dark’s network, nor the authority, to make such demands. That he was overstepping himself just a little.

Whether or not he did have that kind of power, the enforcers moved as if he’d threatened to shoot them both on the spot.

“Yes, Sir,” they agreed almost in unison, the disharmony of it a bit grating on his job. Then raced over and wrestled the drunk enforcers away who was a bit more sluggish. Logan suspected he was getting tired.

“Now unless your current task is to wait fifteen feet from my office and guard me, highly suspect since you have both succeeded in neither, you will remove his person from me and keep him away. Then you will both return to work.”

“Right away, Sir,” they dragged him away and Logan walked down the hallway to find the records room, trying to look like he was frustrated and not panicked.

Logan was able to calm himself down as he used his hazy memories to reach a door in the warehouse. Testing it, Logan opened it, finding that the wooden door had a rather horrendous creak to it. But he was in a room that was larger than it had any physical right to be. The room was lined with bookshelves and had a small, simple desk for writing quick notes on.

Immediately Logan began to scan the shelves, his hazy memories of very little help to him. He was looking for very specific files, but that didn’t mean he knew how to find them. Or what he was supposed to even be looking for, the spines of the journals and binders were all strings of numbers and codes.

After a couple minutes of scanning what he thought was everything twice he paused. There had to be some rhyme or reason to it. Dark was a creature of habit, a being of reason in the League. Surely his files and papers had to contain some of that reason as well.

So Logan began scanning through the books themselves, trying to find anything that told him the dates they were compiled or written. In doing that, towards the back of the room he found something. On one shelf all the folders, binders and journals had a black triangle on them. They were all old, stretching at the most five years back.

Logan froze as he looked at them, a non-so-significant portion of them were written in King’s hand writing. It was eerie. The oldest journal containing his handwriting would have made him sixteen at best. The logical side thought of King, the hero was normally so full of life, smiled every chance he could when he was outside and breathing in fresh air. To think of King trapped in an office similar to Logan’s, windowless and sterile air . . . it twisted something ugly in Logan’s stomach. The thought boiled in Logan’s mind that King had deserved better. He had deserved better than Dark’s network.

It took another couple minutes before he found something, two journals that looked hand-bound. Clearly these two journals were made with higher quality than the rest. Quickly grabbing one of the books out, he looked at the inside cover of one to see:  _ KSK0825 _ .

A quick skim of the journal told Logan that most of the contents were encoded and that it wasn’t type of code that Logan was familiar with. It was clearly an encoded cipher but Logan was at loss for how to read it. The journal next to it had almost the same serial:  _ KSK0718 _ .

Pausing for a second, Logan took the time to make the shelf look more uniform and untouched. Logan needed to leave. He was running low on time and the longer he was out of his office, the higher the likelihood of him getting caught by Dark.

While inspecting the shelf, Logan’s worries were realized when he heard the atrocious creaking of the door and Edgar’s southern drawl growled into the room.

“Don’t care,” Ed scoffed as the door opened and Logan hid behind a shelf, cursing to himself. Hoping that he was normally in here, or supposed to be seen in Dark’s records room. “If I have ta do this shit then guess what, yer fuckin’ promotion means yah do too.”

“Great,” a voice that Logan wasn’t sure if he was familiar with or not droned on.

“Yeah?” Ed closed the door with another loud creek. “Well blame my old assistant for this.”

Logan moved around the shelves, trying to keep both Ed and the enforcer with him out of sight.

“Should I start tearing down books?” The enforcer asked.

“No, they’re in the back, we’re taking the whole shelf,” Ed ordered.

“Great,” Logan tried to keep himself out of sight, eavesdropping on the conversation to have as much information as possible.

“We’re not getting one of those fancy portals to help are we?” The enforcer huffed.

At that Edgar’s laughed, “Who do yeh think we are? One ‘a the kids, or Bookworm? Fat chance.”

“Great,” the enforcer huffed.

“Dark could’a at least paid extra for this,” Ed cursed and began to head over to the spots Logan had been looking at. Logan kept around a bookshelf, trying to stay unnoticed. “This is Bookworm’s job, not mine.”

During the rather heated conversation, Logan looked at the door. The way it creaked let Logan know someone was coming in, but it would warn Edgar that someone was leaving. In the back of his mind, Logan wondered if the creaking was intentional, a warning system of some kind. But either way, Edgar would spot him and Logan needed to weigh the option of waiting until Edgar was leaving, and hoping that he wouldn’t search the entire registry, or announce his presence.

It took a good half minute before Logan made his decision.

“Hello,” Logan announced his presence, freeing one of the other books on another shelf, not caring what it was for the moment.

Edgar jumped, pulling his gun out of its holster and pointing it at Logan’s head. The whole gesture seemed too practiced and Logan just froze on the spot, trying to keep the trepidation off his face.

“Fookin’ hell, man,” Edgar cursed, holstering his pistol again. “Almost shot yah. Dark needs ta put a bell on yah.”

“I must thank you for refraining, I have a job to do,” Logan said, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed frowned, turning back to the shelf. “Whatcha doing here anyways? Was looking for yah earlier.”

“There were some minor inconsistencies in the expense report I was running, and I was certain that Dark would not appreciate having the IRS knocking on his door.”

Edgar actually chuckled at that, “Shit, yeah, good luck with that.”

“I have more than enough ability to not need such a thing,” Logan told him. 

“Speaking of ability, I heard from a little bird that you Judo flipped Caswall,” Ed looked at him. “Didn’t know you could even do that.”

“I’d be foolish not to be able to defend myself,” Logan told him. “This is a line of work that is demanding as it is perilous. Where one miscalculation may result in my death.”

“Yeah,” Ed shrugged. “Nice to know you’re not all talk, always thought you were.”

“Very unfortunate that I gave you such an impression of myself,” Logan told him.

“Dark’ll probably take care of Caswall,” Ed assured him. “Can’t have everyone thinking they can attack his secretary an’ get away with it.”

Logan wondered if being his  _ “normal self” _ in this base would have prevented the death, but he doubted there was little he could do. The logical Side had caught rumor of himself in the shadows, they’d been equally unnerving then. “Regardless, I must be off.”

He turned away from Edgar’s, trying to get back to his office.

“Slow down a bit,” Edgar called out and Logan stopped in his tracks, looking over. “Since yer in here, figured I’d pass somethan’ along ta yeh.”

“Yes?” Logan turned around.

“What’da yah know ‘bout the kid who was workin’ in yer office b’fore yah?” Ed asked.

Logan tried to desperately remember if he’d been told anything but he wasn’t coming up with anything. “I was not informed of anything substantial.”

If that was suspicious, Ed didn’t hint that anything was wrong. He nodded. “Was a sweet kid, bit too sweet if yah ask me. We’re tryin’ ta see if he left any journals that we haven’t burned yet. Not the usual tax stuff, but they were Dark’s personal log journals.”

Logan looked through his journals, “Were they kept in a specific place?”

“Yeah but if yah see any in yer office, just drop ‘em off onta Dark’s desk,” Edgar dismissed, waving him off. “I’ll send you their numbers, Curls was really good at categorizing so I’ll ask Dark how he organized them back then.”

“Send me a memo, I could aid in looking for them as well,” Logan offered, eager to be gone.

“Yeah, thanks, sooner we get ‘em burned the better,” Ed agreed.

“Indeed, faster the better,” Logan agreed. “However, I must get back to work. I have spent enough time looking for these records.”

“Right, right,” Ed allowed, “sorry ta keep yah.”

Not answering, Logan left through the creaky door and closed it behind him. He made sure to keep an even but deliberate pace, fortunately he wasn’t held up again and reached his office without incident.

The room was exactly as he had left it, not a pencil displaced. So Logan quickly closed the door and grabbed the dark blue satchel bag at the side of the desk and began looking in the bag. It was highly likely that wherever Logan went after work he would take this with him and he could get this back to the Host. It took him some time to hide the journals in what seemed like a hidden flap of the satchel. It took some careful placement to make it seem like nothing had been placed there.

Only then could Logan take a breath of relief, trying to calm his racing heart. By his accounts, he seemed to be currently getting away with his theft hand over fist. Ed Edgar and every other enforcer had failed to call out his shoddy, duplicitous act. But as far as Logan knew he had unfortunately one more enforcer to fool: himself. Logan had to be smarter than the Bookworm, and honestly he wasn’t that confident in his odds.

The adrenaline crash was slowly starting and Logan found he had to do something with his hands and body. However, he had to stay in the spot he’d come back to himself in, so he had to do something. He put the journal, binder, and files he’d taken from the record’s room, made a quick effort to make it look like he’d already flipped through them. Then he turned to his desk, straightening anything that looked or seemed out of place.

In the process his eyes landed on a pair of glasses, they were speckled with blood. A spike of alarm and concern sparked across his mind. Desperately he hoped that he hadn’t killed anybody. By the surprise the enforcers had shown of Logan’s ability to even defend himself, Logan didn’t think so. But that didn’t mean his hands were metaphorically clean.

Immediately Logan grabbed the glasses, desperate to get any hint that violence and bloodshed had been perpetrated near them. That  _ Logan _ had been complacent in someone’s death. There was some cleaner in a bottom drawer of his desk, so Logan spent the next couple of minutes being as meticulous as possible to get as much blood off them as possible.

Sure enough, the Bookworm came back to himself just as he was finishing, taking stock of his desk and noticing the ledgers in the revision basket.

Thinking on it, Logan could vaguely remember getting into a fight in the hallway, and going into the records room to cross reference some information. It was how hazy his memory suddenly was that alarmed him.

Quickly Logan made a call directly to Dark, reporting the issue. His only conclusion was that Wilford had been playing with his mind. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but this time the symptoms had been more alarming.

After the call Logan worked for a couple more hours, talking periodic breaks to rest his eyes. Dark stepped into his office to talk about the intrusion and to say that he’d taken care of Caswall for attacking him. Logan courteously thanked him but assured Dark that he needed to get back to work. Then it was time to go home, which Dark ripped a Void portal into the air to let Logan take himself and his briefcase home.

Once in his apartment, Logan sat down to relax.

His relaxation didn’t last as another portal opened up and he was unceremoniously thrown back into the Host’s library, his briefcase landing next to him.

Fully awake again, the logical Side let out a drained groan as he came to in the Host’s library.

“Did Logic enjoy his day at work?” The Host smiled at him, a full toothy grin. He was sitting at his desk like a king on his throne.

“It was a precarious situation,” Logan admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “I was almost caught in the act of theft.”

Logan wound up needing a small respite, which the Host let him take, then Logan went to the meeting room with the two journals and began transcribing the code. It was a string of code names and numbers. But the code names seemed to be stand-ins for people. He found: Junior, Philly, Author, Little Red, Curly, and Songbird. The only name he was sure was a name was Warfstache’s but the numbers around his name were equally indecipherable.

The logical Side counted his good luck. These seemed to be the ledgers that both he and Edgar were looking for, but he could ask King. If anyone could read this it would be the Coalition’s resident polyglot and former League member.

“Hey, Logan,” King walked in. He had a sandwich for the logical Side, another half-eaten one in his hands. “Host said you had something to talk to me about.”

“Yes,” Logan answered. “I was merely trying to make some headway with this cipher before contacting you directly.”

King smiled and looked over Logan’s shoulder before letting out a shocked gasp. “Where’d you get those?”

“Thank you for the sandwich,” Logan told him, taking it from King’s hands. “These were procured from Dark’s personal records room.”

“Yeah, obviously,” King bit back at him. “I meant  _ how _ did you get them? There’s no way you just walked in there without getting shot like a piñata.”

“Don’t you normally use a bat to break open a piñata?” Logan asked.

King stalled on that, “Not when I was growing up, my dad would shoot them before one of my brothers could even get close to it with a bat. Called it target practice.”

“That certainly is an interesting home environment,” Logan thought on that. “He is the same person who worked for Dark’s network, I’ve heard you speak about him from time to time.”

Looking uneasy, King looked down at the journals, “No, that was my Old Man, my dad . . . He doesn’t really work for anyone. It’s complicated and messy. But how’d you get these anyways.”

“An equally complicated story,” Logan baited. “How about we start with an easier story, you wrote these?”

King glared at him, then he looked away, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Yeah, I did. I was a tax assistant.”

“You were more than that,” Logan reminded. “You were Dark’s personal secretary. But this code isn’t of Dark’s making, it’s yours. Which is why Dark’s current secretary has no knowledge of it.”

The other hero was suddenly intensely interested in his sandwich, looking at it and purposefully taking smaller bites than he usually did.

“King,” Logan reproved. “You are willfully abetting Dark. We could let it slide before, but you were part of Dark’s inner circle when you only hinted you worked for your father. You are protecting him.”

That got a chuckle out of King, finally finished with his sandwich-turned-distraction, he dusted bread crumbs off his hands. “I’m not protecting Dark. I’m protecting my brothers and sister.”

“We can extend that protection over to them, but Dark’s network needs to be taken care of,” Logan reminded.

“Oh my,” King groaned, head in his hands. “I have to spell it out for your all don’t I? I thought you all knew and were playing dumb to make me feel better.”

Logan began to study King, looking for anything that would hint he should have some prior knowledge of the other hero’s home life before joining the heroes. While he was thinking, the door opened.

“Hey, yah two okay?” Chase asked as he walked in. “Heard some shoutin’ and— why is it so dark in here?”

The hero flipped on all the lights and King looked away from Logan, now staring at the journals.

“What’s wrong?” Chase asked, clearly trying to be gentle towards King. The younger hero tended to get favored by Chase and Patton, and Logan could see it was starting to happen again.

“King is in possession of information that should be on police record,” Logan warned.

Chase frowned, clearly worried.

“Oh yeah, tell the police,” King scoffed. “Most of them are still in Dark’s pocket.”

“Hey, hey,” Chase tried to soothe. “Let’s take a deep breath here. Do either of yeh need a drink?”

“I’m fine,” King spat.

“I’m more than sufficient,” Logan refused.

Chase looked at the journals, “This what the arguin’ is fer?”

“In part,” Logan admitted.

“It’s cause I wrote them,” King admitted.

“Yah did all this?” Chase started flipping through the journal.

“Yeah,” King said. “I like codes, and the— and Dark liked that I wrote them in code too.”

“None of the other journals or accounts you worked on had this cipher,” Logan reminded. “Why not write them for all of them.”

“Cause no one other than Dark or I was supposed to read them,” King reported. “Sides, they were a fun way to keep the job from making me want to tear my eyes out.”

“Doesn’t seem yah liked doin’ Dark’s paperwork,” Chase commented.

“You kidding,” King sat down. “I hated it. But everyone else was doing something and I was getting bigger. Either it was that or helping to babysit Artie, and no one liked doing that job. Not even Illy, and he was the only one good at the job.”

A thought seized Logan, almost as if a metaphorical light bulb was going off. “Illy?”

“Yeah, he was one of my brothers,” King sighed.

Logan was already grabbing his list of code names, including Warfstache’s name there were seven. “Would his code name happen to be Philly? Is the full code name Philadelphia or just Philly?”

That got a slight smile out of King, “Philly. Illy Philly, Dad came up with that, he liked it cause it rhymed.”

“Is there any pattern to them?” Logan wondered out loud. “There must be, all network code names are descriptors for the individual they represent.”

“So what’s yours then?” King asked, a tense undercurrent to his voice. “No way you walked in without being shot, with or without your mask and visor. So you had to sneak in undercover. Ethan’s been on Damien’s trail for a while now, no way he helped you sneak in.”

Logan thought on that dangerous prospect, then he looked at the younger hero, “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

King frowned, “Deal. Mine was Curly.”

Logan frowned, as he’d suspected that name was on the list. “Mine is Bookworm, apparently.”

Chase and King both stared at him.

“No way,” King smiled. “How? How’d you get that close to him?”

“The Host,” Logan admitted.

That got a laugh out of King, and Chase just stared at him, “Makes sense, what’s he asking in return for it.”

“He’s not,” Logan responded.

“Yeah right, Host’s different I’ll give him that, but he still is a stubborn bastard,” King warned. “He’s gotta be getting something out of it. Or is he just getting his rocks off.”

“The Host is doing what should have been done years ago,” the Host announced himself. Logan and Chase jumped, but King just rolled his eyes.

“So noble,” King retorted. “You enjoy risking your own neck?”

“Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” Chase shouted.

The Host walked over. Logan asked, “Did something happen?”

“The Host figured since the Heroes were talking about him, he should defend himself in person,” the Host admitted, then turned to King. “And save the King of the Squirrels from hanging them all in the process.”

“I was doing fine,” King huffed.

Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes, only adjusting his glasses. “If we can get back to the matter at hand, King you and your siblings are all in this book, correct? It would certainly explain your reluctance to talk about them.”

“Yeah,” King admitted, glancing at the Host, who was silently watching the conversation.

Logan looked at two of the code strings:

8285 Author, 14:26, 774.28.

8285 Philly, 14:26, 774.28.

The logical Side hummed to himself in thought, “You also stated that one of your brothers required a  _ “babysitter” _ is that correct?”

“Yeah, someone always had to be with him or he’d make a huge mess anywhere he went,” King answered.

“It follows then,” Logan thought out loud, “that someone would always be with him. Making Author that brother.”

“Oh yeah, that’s him, he was a sadist,” King said. “Creeped everyone out. He never gave us a reason to fear him, but Dark’s network still did.”

“Yet you’ve never reported him,” Logan criticized.

“The King of the Squirrel never had a need,” the Host cut in. “The Author is dead.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” King sighed. “I was his babysitter that day, and he didn’t want to listen to me, so he tried to take on a bigger fish.”

“A bigger fish than Dark?” Chase asked, clearly nervous.

“The Entity and the Actor have been enemies since their beginning,” the Host announced. “The heroes and the police might as well be pawns on the board compared to them.”

“The Actor?” Logan repeated. “If he’s such a big threat, why has he failed to appear in the city in the decades since Dark appeared?”

“The Actor is like a snake that moves through the shadows of Egoton,” the Host explained. “His only concern is the Entity and the Madman, and the Author in his pride and ability, thought himself more powerful than he was, and tried to attack one of the Entity’s rivals in a bid to prove himself to the mob boss. He paid for his miscalculation with his sanity, and eventually his life.”

“That is,” Logan was searching for the correct word, figuring that the Actor couldn’t have been much older than King, “unfortunate. You must have been heartbroken, he was your brother.”

King wasn’t looking at Logan, staring at something in the journal, “Yeah he was an asshole, but I miss him sometimes.”

“How old was he?” Chase asked.

“Twenty-one,” the Host answered. “The Author had lived almost his whole life in Dark’s network, and he would have continued if he wasn’t killed.”

Chase looked angry, “What was Dark doing letting someone who was barely an adult into his network?”

“The Host does not want to defend the Entity by answering that question directly,” the Host evaded. “Choices were made, many of those choices were made in haste and desperation. King of the Squirrels should aid the heroes with their work.”

“You just—” King threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. You know what, fine?”

“Hey, Logan,” King turned to the Logical side. “Wanna learn a ten-year-old’s cipher? It’s not nearly as clever as you think it is.”

“Try me,” Logan said, clearly excited.

“Those number combinations are streets,” King admitted. “Street 0 is Hill Road because I was on it at the time I made the cipher.”

“Isn’t that where Dark lives,” Chase asked.

“A cipher based on a city grid is quite interesting,” Logan told him. “I certainly hadn’t guessed it.”

“I was so anal retentive at the time that building that no longer exist might as well still be there on the grid,” King correct. “Also the grid extends into sections of the parks instead of counting the park as one area, throwing off the count when you look at the new city grid.”

“Ahh,” Logan commented. “That will certainly make the deciding process harder. Do you have a city map that was active during the time you made the cipher.”

“Nope,” King popped the  _ “p” _ on the word.

“No matter,” Logan dismisses. “Bing could get us that map.”

While Logan and King were talking, the younger hero slowly getting more enthusiastic as the process continued, the Host began to walk off. Chase followed him.

“If Average has something to say, he should say it,” the Host informed, walking towards Iplier’s office.

“I know King regrets everythin’ he did while he was with Dark and the others, but do yeh?” Chase asked.

The Host stopped, “Is Chase asking the Host?”

Chase’s arms crossed in front of him, “I’m askin’  _ you _ .” Chase overemphasized the last word.

There was mostly silence, only the Host’s narrations interrupted the silence. Then, “The Host regrets not being better while he was the Author. He regrets not being a good person. For the lives stolen in greed and sadism. If the Host could have control over fate, he would have erased the Author from existence, even if it meant removing the Host himself.”

Chase went quiet again, sad and contemplative, “Well I’m glad yer here, even if yeh were a massive douchebag a’fore, yer not now. We need yah here, an’ someone needs ta keep Ip from drinkin’ himself to death with coffee.”

The Host was silent, his narrations a bit more subdued. Then he smiled. “The Host is a selfish person, a major part of the reason he joined up with the heroes was to make King and Dr. Iplier happy.”

“What about now?” Chase smiled expectantly. “Yah have ta admit, yeh like us.”

That got another smile out of the Host, “It is true, the Host has gotten rather attached to the heroes.”

Smiling even wider, Chase walked with the Host to the office, knocking for him, “See? Not so bad are yah?”

Dr. Iplier opened the door and immediately both his face and the Host’s face lit up. Iplier thanked Chase and the other hero hurried back to the meeting room. He wasn’t any good with codes, but he wanted to be there with Logan, the double life the Side was leading didn’t sit well with him. He doubted it ever would.


End file.
